


Einstein

by ScumbagSimon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hugs, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter-centric, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScumbagSimon/pseuds/ScumbagSimon
Summary: Tony doesn't understand why Peter keeps avoiding the new intern.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 500





	Einstein

“Pete, meet the new intern, Steven Wescott.”  
“Actually you can call me Skip,” the man smiled.  
Neither of them immediately noticed how Peter's fingers had frozen, trailing ice up his arms and into his chest. The papers fluttered out of his hands and onto the desk, a solitary blueprint rolling onto the floor.  
“Pete?” Tony said, not seeing the way Peter's eyes had locked onto Skip, not seeing his shoulders stiff as stone. “You okay?”  
“I just remembered,” Peter managed to say, his breath tearing a hole in his throat. “May wants me—late for dinner—I have to go.”  
He unfroze, and quick as a cat he darted around them and out the door.  
“Kid, it's only three o cl—kid!”

It was three days before Peter came back to the tower.  
He was leaving school, the thought of his just-finished chemistry test on his mind, when he caught sight of a familiar, sleek black car. Knowing there was no way around it, Peter trudged his way over, anxiety churning in his stomach.  
The front window rolled down.  
“Hey Happy,” Peter said quietly as the man frowned at him.  
“Kid, it's been three days. Tony's worried sick about you.”  
“Sorry,” he pressed his finger in between his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. Two and a half years and he still tried to adjust his glasses that weren't there. “Busy. Homework.”  
The back window rolled down. “And did 'homework' make you practically run from the tower?”  
Peter winced. “Hi Mr. Stark.”  
The door opened. “Get in.”  
Peter slipped into the car and closed the door, feeling the vehicle pull away from the curb.  
“Wanna explain what happened?”  
“I wasn't expecting anybody else to be there.” Not technically a lie. “I panicked.” Definitely not a lie.  
Tony sighed, a crease forming on his forehead. “Kid, you fight knife-wielding muggers for a living. You see a college kid in your lab and you freak? It's not adding up.”  
“That's different!” Peter thought quickly. “Because out on the street I'm Spider-Man, and when I'm in the lab with you I'm just Peter. It's not the same.”  
“I'm sure you had your reasons for running away,” Tony sighed. “Maybe you had a crush on the kid, I don't know, I don't care. He doesn't know you're spider-man, but if you keep running away from him he's gonna think something's up.”  
Peter was still reeling from the 'maybe you had a crush on him', trying to ignore the white-hot shame and fear in his stomach, but he nodded. “Is he... there now?”  
“He's at the tower, yes.” Tony raised an eyebrow like he was daring Peter to object.  
“Do I have to see him? Can't I come over on days he's not here?”  
“What, you shy all of a sudden? Put on your big-boy pants, Pete. He's just a guy like you and me.”  
“Yeah,” Peter muttered, too quiet for Tony to hear. “Just like you and me.”

“You're Peter, right?”  
Peter, who had been trying so hard to pretend Skip wasn't just a few meters away from him, nodded slightly, a pencil clutched so hard in his hand it had begun to splinter.  
“You look familiar.”  
As much as Peter didn't want to talk to him, he really, really didn't want to be recognized.  
“I have one of those faces.”  
“Must be it,” Skip looked thoughtful in the reflection of Peter's laptop screen. He wouldn't try anything with Mr. Stark here, hopefully, but Peter was still on edge, his breath sharp and just a bit too quick in his chest. No way was he going to get any work done on his homework until he was back in the apartment with May.   
“'Scuze me,” Skip said, and suddenly he was right there, too close, touching him—  
He'd been reaching for a pen. Peter had lurched away, banging his hip into a metal table with a loud clang.  
“You okay?”  
“Fine,” Peter muttered, turning away but keeping a sharp gaze on him in the reflection of this laptop. No work done for the rest of the day? Try the rest of his life. Peter was so fucked.

It had been three weeks since Skip first appeared in the tower, and it was hell on Peter's already fragile mental stability. Since then, Mr. Stark had divulged that Skip's parents were friends with Rhodey, and they had asked if an internship was available. Apparently Skip was trying for MIT, which was just perfect, considering that was Peter's dream school. Peter tried his best to avoid him, but it was difficult since their desks were right next to each other, and any time he spoke Peter was harshly reminded of the feeling of hands touching him and whispering for him to be quiet, and his spider-sense screamed any time he even looked in Peter's direction, giving him pounding headaches. Skip only worked weekdays, thank god, so Peter was free to enjoy himself and breathe on the Sundays he came to the tower. Saturdays he reserved for spending time with Ned and MJ. As much as it hurt, he didn't tell either of them about Skip working in the tower. He'd never told them about Skip in the first place, nor Aunt May, or Uncle Ben, or anybody. It was Peter's burning secret, and it was killing him.  
Today it was a Sunday, and Peter had a little skip in his step as he hurried up to the labs. He was refreshed and relaxed from spending a day with his friends, and now he was looking forward to spending a day with his mentor. Plus he had a bit of chemistry homework to finish, and chemistry was his favorite.  
When he pushed open the door to the lab, his spider-sense gave a shriek, and to his shock Skip was there, glancing up from his desk as Peter walked in.  
“Hey Pete,” Mr. Stark greeted. “I have a meeting, so I can't stay, but Skip is here to keep you company.”  
Horror jammed a metal rod into his stomach. “Oh.”  
“Yup,” Stark patted Peter on the shoulder and slipped around him, opening the door. “You two have fun.”  
Then the door closed, and Peter was left alone with Skip.  
On shaky legs, he headed over to his desk. It's okay, he told himself Skip doesn't even know who I am. It's okay. Breathe.  
Peter set his backpack on the floor and pulled his chemistry book out of it, setting it on his desk and grabbing a pencil to work with. He bent over his desk and scribbled an equation, and he'd barely started on the next one when Skip began to talk.  
“Peter... Parker?”  
Terror froze Peter in place.  
“It says Peter Parker on your backpack.” Skip's eyes flickered up from Peter's bag to Peter himself. “You're Peter Parker.”  
Peter watched Skip in the reflection of his laptop. “Yes.”  
“And you didn't say anything?”  
“No.” Peter's voice was a hoarse whisper. His chest hurt.  
Skip leaned back in his chair, an easy grin working its way onto his face. “You must have liked it then.”  
The pencil snapped in Peter's hand.  
The wheels on Skip's chair squeaked as he moved a few inches closer. “It's a shame I had to move. I liked babysitting you.”  
Peter was trembling now.  
“Do you remember much? I used to call you by a nickname—what was it? Oh right. Einstein.”  
His hand reached out and touched Peter's leg, and suddenly he was five, lying on the floor as Skip touched him, he was crying with a hand over his mouth, begging for Skip to stop, please stop it hurts, I don't like this I want to stop—  
Peter blinked, and he was still on the floor, but he was sitting up and he was sixteen years old, but Skip was still there.  
All rational thought left Peter, and he jumped up, pushing Skip away and tearing out of the lab and down the hall and into the elevator, his chest heaving with gasping breaths that may have been sobs. He'd left his backpack there, but he was so scared. So scared.  
The elevator opened and he realized he was on Tony's personal floor, the man standing in front of him in a sharp suit with his arms crossed.   
“Kid? What happened? Friday told me you were in distress.”  
“I can't—“ Peter gasped. “I just—”  
“Easy,” Tony laid a hand on his shoulder. “It's—“  
“DON'T TOUCH ME!” Peter shrieked and threw the man's arm off, stumbling backward as he tried to get away, his back hitting the wall.  
He slid to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, squeezing his eyes shut until his vision went starry. There was a dull roar in his ears drawing out all other sounds except a high-pitched ringing. His lungs hurt, he couldn't breathe.  
Finally, he managed to take a shallow, painful breath, then another, and another. He opened his eyes and his vision slowly came back to him as he breathed, seeing Tony crouched a few feet in front of him with both arms raised up like he was trying to calm a scared animal.  
“You back?” his voice was fuzzy.  
Peter nodded a bit, just now noticing the tears leaving trails down his face. “I'm sorry Mr. Stark, I—“  
“Don't finish that sentence, Pete. I have one rule in this tower and that is that you don't apologize for things that arent your fault.” Stark tilted his head. “Also don't eat my donuts.”  
Peter smiled a bit, his chest aching and his hands shaking.   
“So what caused it?”  
Skip flashed in Peter's mind, and he shivered. “Noth-”  
“Don't you dare say 'nothing', Pete, so help me.”  
Most of the fear had been pushed aside, now replaced by a heavy weight of dread pushing him down. He knew what was coming. Mr. Stark would never look at him the same after he explained. There would always be a glimmer of pity and disgust.  
“It was. It was Skip.”  
“Skip.”  
Peter nodded, feeling a new tear slip out of his eye. “I'm sorry Mr. Stark, I didn't want to tell you. I...”  
“It's okay kid. Go ahead.”  
“I know him.”  
“Yeah, so do I. He's been working here for three weeks, I would hope-”  
“No. I mean I knew him before.”  
“And you didn't say anything. Old bully?”  
Peter swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn't budge. “Worse.”  
“Okay, not an old bully. You've been avoiding him since the day he came here, you have a heart attack any time he gets close to you, you didn't want me... to touch... you.” Mr. Stark's face went white as flour. “Oh Pete, don't tell me he...”  
Peter clenched his arm around his knees tighter and sobbed, his face crumpling. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry Mr. Stark I didn't want to—I didn't want you to know, I'm sorry I didn't—I couldn't say—I-”   
Tony very gently touched Peter's knee. If it had been anybody but him, Peter would have freaked, but instead, he pushed his face into his arms and sobbed again.  
“When?”  
“I was five.”  
The hand left his knee. This was it. This was when Tony would never again see him as an equal. He would shun Peter. He didn't want to even touch him. When no reprimands came, Peter took a hasty glance up to see the man's face contorted with rage.  
“Mr. Stark?”  
“I worked with him,” his voice was venomous. “I paid him, told him he was a good kid.”  
“Mr. Stark-”  
“I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna take my gauntlet right to his-”  
“Mr. Stark!”  
Stark blinked and looked towards Peter, who had shrunk backward and away from him.  
“Sorry Pete.” he sighed. “Come here.”  
Peter fell forward to hug Tony, face buried in the collar of his snappy suit. “We're there?”  
Tony pressed a quick kiss to the side of Peter's head. “We're there.”

And so, Peter never saw Steven Wescott again, except for his mugshot on the news.


End file.
